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Until I am convinced everything stands as it did. I rely on you for that, Neeld and I rely on you to come to Merrion to-morrow. Not a word to my wife above all not a word to Janie!" He got up, took possession of Neeld's review, and walked off into the house with his business-like quick stride. Neeld sat there, slowly rubbing his hands against one another between his knees.
It was characteristic of him not to notice this fact. And the fact did nothing to relieve Neeld's piteous embarrassment. "I knew it all along;" he might say that. "I know nothing about it;" he might act that. Or he might temporize for a little while. This was what he did. "It would make a great difference if this were true?" His voice shook, but Iver was absorbed.
"Well yes, I am," answered Neeld, smiling. And they shook hands. Here was the beginning of a friendship; here, also, Neeld's entry on the scene where Harry Tristram's fortunes formed the subject of the play. It was now a foregone conclusion that Mr Neeld would fall before temptation and come to Blentmouth.
It was really a little annoying that old Mr Neeld should be the person wanted at Blent. "I'll drive you over," Bob kindly volunteered. "Er thank you, Broadley, but she asks me to come alone." "Well, I'm hanged!" muttered Bob, who had seen a chance of being in at the death. They were coming straight down to Blent. That fact assumed an important place in Neeld's review of the situation.
Perhaps he made rather high demands on posterity; but that was his business and its. At any rate his taste was curious and his conscience acute. He was very minute and very scrupulous, very painstaking and very discreet, in the exercise of his duties. Posterity may perhaps like these qualities in an editor of memoirs and diaries; for such were Mr Neeld's favorite subjects.
But who could be emotional now in face of these two elderly gentlemen? Neeld's example made such a thing ridiculous, Colonel Edge would obviously consider it unsoldier-like. The chance had been frittered away; life was at its old game of neglecting its own possibilities.
"Mr Iver," said Neeld, in his precise prim tones, "I must make a confession to you. When you were up for this club I my vote was not in your favor." During a minute's silence Iver looked at him with amusement and almost with affection. "I'm glad you've told me that." "Well, I'm glad I have too." Neeld's laugh was nervous. "Because it shows that you're thinking of coming to Blentmouth."
I've had my life upset once before, and I assure you it's rather troublesome work. It wants a little time and a little thinking. You get rather confused always changing your train, you know. I have work on hand plans and so forth. And, as you say, of course there's the lady too." He laughed as he ended by borrowing Neeld's phrase. "I can understand all that, Lord Tristram."
Does he talk about Heidelberg?" "He mentions it once or twice." In spite of himself Neeld began to feel that he was within measurable distance of getting on to difficult ground. "What fun if he mentioned me! Oh, but of course he wouldn't say anything about a child of five!" The slightest start ran through Neeld's figure; it passed unnoticed. He looked sharply at Mina Zabriska.
The Imp was in no mood for ceremony; one glance at the handwriting, and she tore the envelope open eagerly. Iver was whispering to Duplay. Neeld's eyes were on the ceiling, because he did not know where else he could direct them with any sense of safety. Mina read. A gasp of breath from her brought Neeld's eyes down from their refuge and stayed Iver and the Major's whispered talk.
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